The fourth attacker aka No rest for the wicked
by Naraya-Marjana
Summary: "Look, Aaron, you are a handsome man, and I am not exactly opposed to having sex with you, but you have to do something about your anger management issues." It's quite a bit darker than you might think, and I'm afraid it doesn't make much sense. Sexual violence implied. Don't read if this upsets you.
1. Chapter 1

It was at times like these that he felt his body most clearly.

Weak with viral infection, his mind racing a hundred miles an hour, his muscles hurting, he had no choice but to give in to these sensations, hoping they would pass swiftly.

It was at times like these that he wondered who he had become. It made absolutely no sense to indulge in fruitless soul-searching while he was incapacitated and vulnerable. Somehow, illness helped him let his guard down with no qualms.

Only this time it was different. He was not alone and they were not safe.

He had told her to take the money and the documents and run, run as fast as she could, and stay hidden for a long, long time.

She did not listen, and his heart ached in strange, unfamiliar ways that she should choose to stay with him.

Maybe it was because of the proximity of a woman, which he had not felt in what seemed like a lifetime. Maybe it was the soothing presence of the other half of humanity – the normal half, the half he no longer belonged to – that directed his mind down a less traveled road.

He had not always been this way. Hardened, ridden with guilt, hating the blood on his hands. Once, he had wanted to find a woman to marry and have children with. It was in another lifetime where simpler, more pleasing desires abounded. Now he was twisted, wicked, evil.

If only he could have gotten rid of those simpler, more pleasant desires along with him being worthy of their fulfillment.

Going crazy with not getting what he wanted was not on his agenda. So he didn't think too much about what he had forfeited – everything he had given up, everything he had pushed aside – until it caught up to him, when he was sick or injured – like right now.

It was stupid to imagine that this woman could be his absolution, that she could find it in her soul to see past the mask of a killer, and rediscover the man inside.

It was a silly notion – but one he could not shake off.

Although it was pointless to ask, he wondered why she had stayed, yet he was grateful for her company nonetheless.

He didn't remember the last time he knew what it felt like to be taken care of.

He would come to regard this moment as the time when it had all started, and he would remember it with painful precision and clarity.


	2. Chapter 2

Twelve months later, and they were still in hiding. Although safe from prosecution as well as persecution, they chose to keep a low profile – just in case someone decided they were still of interest to the government. Any government.

They came to another city with too much light, too much traffic and too much noise. In a room too small for two people, they had nowhere to run from each other.

Now that the running from trained assassins – on the government paycheck, mind you – was over, she had begun to distance herself from him. At first, he thought it was the shock of nearly dying – a bit more than just a couple of times, by the way – that was wearing off, and that she just needed some time to recover what was left of her world.

He couldn't have been more wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

She had nowhere to go. No home, no house, no family – well, she could always call her sister or her ex if she wanted to, but she felt as though a veil of silence had been drawn over her previous life. Dr. Marta Shearing no longer existed. She was just Marta now.

All of her earthly possessions were now comprised of a substantial amount of money (in cash), accompanied by a couple of high-quality forgeries (in several different languages – half of which she could not speak without humiliating herself). The clothes on her back and the food in her stomach were all she had to show to prove that she was not stranded on a deserted island. Figure of speech, or literal truth, depending on where she was at the given moment.

Of course, there was always him. She still had Aaron Cross. He had not deserted her nor shown her anything but kindness.

She would have rather faced a pack of ferocious wolves than a life filled with his presence.

Living with a man the way she had for the past twelve months – it was unnatural, and though he never propositioned her, she was wary of him.

In fact, Marta hated being a woman. She hated feeling weak in her present life just as much as she had wanted to do genetic research in her old one. She hated that her body was soft, supple, and pliant. She hated having protruding breasts that attracted the wrong kind of attention and she hated having a hole between her legs that half of the adult human population was after.

She felt so much stronger on the inside than she was on the outside. Here, in the urban wilderness, she was at her worst, while in the controlled environment of a laboratory she had been at her best. She could not run fast, despite the fact that lately, she had been doing nothing but running. She was not strong enough to fight off an attacker, because she would not take Aaron up on his offer to teach her how to fight. In a situation that required fast and well-planned response, she deemed herself a failure.

Yet she had endured. She was persistent by nature as well as habit – she was no quitter. She had not given up when a crazy scientist had started shooting everyone in her lab. She used her moments of inspiration well and she did not, repeat, did not take life for granted.

Not when her life was in danger.

However, while she was strong enough to last, she did not know if she had strength enough to last forever. Not against her formidable fiend.


	4. Chapter 4

"I am so aware of you it's disturbing.

"Sometimes at night when I'm awake, I watch you sleeping. I want to touch you – just to wipe away a drop of perspiration or put a loose strand of hair behind your ear, I tell myself. But then I think, what if you woke up and found me touching you? So I don't. I stop myself. Every time.

"I think I am falling in love with you."

He practiced those lines in his head as he watched her standing in front of a mirror. It was dark outside, a pleasant evening already giving way to the night. The night was always dark, and he wanted to say what he was thinking every night – say something, anything! – that would make her aware of the fact that he was dying to put his arms around her.

It seemed that underneath all the muscle and intelligence, he was just a coward. Just like everyone else. Not better.

Not enhanced.

The dark hides many things. Just like shapes blur and colors dwindle, so did the night help to disguise the look on his face, the tremors of his flesh. She never learned he felt naked, exposed next to her, until it was too late. Until his fear dissolved and anger sprung forth.


	5. Chapter 5

Running as fast as they could, they tried to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the bodies.

She had wanted to set out on her own, and he had allowed her to think she had succeeded. He could not let her walk away from him, and so he followed her. It was lucky that he had been in the vicinity when she had found herself cornered by three strangers looking for the wrong kind of amusement – three men who were now dead, so very, very dead.

She tried to keep up with his pace, and was not paying any attention to where they were going when suddenly he pulled her into a deserted hallway where they could not be seen from the street.

He scrutinized her evenly, trying to estimate her state of mind. He wondered if she was going into shock.

She found his piercing gaze too similar to the greedy glances of her now-dead attackers, and she shuddered in fear.

It was the wrong thing to do, although she could hardly help it.

Aaron, for all his strength and powerful self-preservation instincts, had to admit he did not possess an equally outstanding self-control. He was in love with this woman who stood before him, terrified, and he had already lost her more than once. He had just protected her, protected what was his, for she belonged to him, and him alone, and he could not bear another man touching her.

If anyone had the right to lay her down in the mud and make her scream, it was him. He had wanted to do just that for what seemed like forever – it was really just a little more than a year.

Her fear wounded him deeper than a bullet could have, and the darkness within Aaron – the darkness of the night, the darkness no virus could ever erase – was released.

_At last._


	6. Chapter 6

Suddenly his hand was tight around her neck. He was holding her jaw so that she was facing away from him, and though she could not see his face she felt as if he was about to rip her throat out.

Her back pressed to the wall, she felt his thumb caress her ear lobe, but his voice was angry in her ear.

"Don't move."

It was an easy order to obey, since she was frozen with terror.

He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and when he spoke, his voice was full of raw emotion, infused with tangible tension.

"I have been trying to do this differently. I hoped it would be easier for you, but the time has run out, and so has my patience."

When he did not go on, she tried to act as though being at his mercy was just a product of a misunderstanding that would be resolved as soon as she spoke the first word.

"Aaron, you're hurting me."

"I am. But you've been hurting me with every breath you took for longer than you can imagine. I am in love with you, do you understand what that means? I have been ever since you stayed with me despite the fact that I told you otherwise. Unlucky for you, I want you so much, and this… craving, or whatever it is, it's just so strong, maybe stronger than any love I am capable of.

"I haven't planned for this to happen. I do care about you, or at least I did – up until a minute ago. I wanted to protect you, to keep you safe. Only right now, what I must have is stronger than what I want to do. And I must have you."

He paused, bracing himself for her reaction.

"That's why I am going to take you right here, right now – unless..."

He did not finish his sentence for the fear he would say something that would make it possible for her to talk her way out of this – capture him with his word and then slip from his grasp forever. He truly did not want to harm her and was more than willing to negotiate – only he had no idea how to do it.

How do you bargain for a romantic relationship when the only other alternative you're offering is rape? How do you beg for love when you have no other means of persuasion but violence?

She was just as confused as he was, only in a different way. _Where is he going with this?_ She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She did know this. There was no influence in the world that could distract Aaron from his purpose or change his mind – unless he wanted to be swayed. She struggled to form a coherent response, but even breathing seemed too painful to endure.

"You're talking about rape, you do know that?"

She cursed herself internally for stating the obvious. As if she needed to goad him on.

"It's not that I don't… like you, but… this… – I don't want to have sex with you but I also don't want to get – hurt, and… if you are… decided… it would be fair of you… to – give me a chance to say yes, Aaron. Give me a _reason_ to say yes."

His voice was calm when he spoke, almost as if the outcome of this conversation did not matter to him in the least.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

"Are you really ready to offer me a _better_ alternative? It might be just as difficult. For you."

For a moment, she was confused. What would be a more desirable outcome to a rapist than the rape itself? Then relief washed over her. To his mind, her consent _was_ the better alternative. And again, she was mystified. How could a non-violent outcome be more difficult for her? What would he want in exchange for sparing her?

"I don't know what you mean by a better alternative, exactly. Could we talk about this?"

He nodded. She was being reasonable, if not rational. Her request for more information was to be expected; she wasn't a first-class scientist for nothing.

Or at least, she had been – due to him, she was a fugitive. And he had her pressed to a wall, and threatened her with rape. If there was ever a way to destroy a woman, this was it.

_Great. Just what I've always wanted to do._

"Should I start at the beginning?"

"If you want to."

"I knew that sooner or later my need for you was going to get the better of me. I just thought it would happen after we were already lovers, that I would somehow manage to make you fall in love with me, and then you wouldn't… wouldn't be afraid of me anymore. But things did not turn out that way, and now you and I both have to deal with it."

"Yes, it really must be horrible for you."

She shouldn't have said that, and she knew it. But his blatant use of the words "lovers" and "fall in love" – considering the nature of their conversation – threw her off, and she forgot he was so many times and in so many ways stronger than she was.

Her sarcastic words and the dry tone of her voice earned her a low, menacing growl deep in his chest. But when he spoke, he was detached, almost clinical.

"You can't be as brave as you sound. Just now, when we walked to this place, you looked at me – and I saw – I could see in your eyes that you were honestly afraid of me. Just like you were afraid of those idiots I killed."

_More afraid_, she wanted to say but thought better of it. _I am always more afraid of you than anyone._

"I've been trying so hard to do the right thing, to be honest, to keep you safe. I wanted to tell you I love you every night, every time I looked at you, but I couldn't get the words out, and then I just wanted to hold you so much, but I didn't because I didn't want to impose myself on you. I just realized it had all been a huge waste of my time! You've been afraid of me all along for no good reason! Now, you have all the reason in the world. I've been trying to suppress my feelings for far too long and I snapped.

"I don't see how I could have avoided this – unless you had given me the time of day, but I can see now you never would have done that. So maybe it's better this way…"

His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "I just snapped," he repeated to himself.

She dared not breathe but to plead with him.

"Aaron, please –"

Suddenly he was livid. It took her by surprise. Her previous sarcasm had not had the same effect, not by a long shot.

"Do you want to be raped? Do you want me to do it? No, you don't. But right now, you're but an inch away from that happening to you, and you don't want to push your luck. Don't beg, and don't ask me to spare you. I am no lying, and I am not joking. I want you and I will have you one way or another. It's up to you how much pain you'll be in afterwards. You said you wanted me to give you a chance to say yes? Why should I even give you a chance, when you had all the chance in the world and you wasted it by being afraid when there was nothing to fear? But now there is. Oh, God, there is!"

She started trembling, and her composure fell away. This was her worst nightmare coming true – a man becoming so obsessed with her – obsessed to the point where he no longer cared what happened to her. It seemed that all that mattered to Aaron, the only thing he cared about anymore, was his own gratification.

She would have been better off had he not rescued her from those men who had attacked her. They would have shown her leniency sooner than Aaron would have let her go.

He seemed to be in tune with her thoughts.

"Do you think you would prefer a stranger? Someone you didn't have to look in the eye when he hurt you? Anyone else would have had their fun and then forgotten all about you in an instant. Me, you're stuck with for good. Did you think you were safe when I jumped off that roof? I am not your protector, not even close."

No, he wasn't her protector. Yet here he was, after he had saved her life and owned up to his desire in the same breath – talking. Technically, he didn't have to do that. It wasn't exactly necessary to talk first and fuck later. If she was indeed stuck with him for good, the other way around would have worked just as well, right? For him, anyway. Unless…

"I am not a monster. I may not be your protector, not even your friend, but I am not a monster.

"You don't think I'm a monster either, do you? I could hear it in your voice – you screamed my name like I was the only human being in the world besides yourself. Did you expect me to be there, to save you? You couldn't have known I was following you. Why did you call out my name when you had no idea I was even there? You called to me, me of all people!"

He was briefly dazed by the possibility she harbored some emotion towards him other than fear, not taking into account that he was destroying his chances even as he spoke.

"You're in worse danger than ever. Tonight you have run out of luck. I am your fourth attacker and I am more dangerous than all the rest put together."

Dangerous, and different. She would have expected a man bent on rape, his sights already set on his prey, to hurry up, to get as much as he could as fast as he could. Those who were now dead seemed to follow that pattern. So maybe Aaron wouldn't – though he obviously could and wanted to. His speaking the words delayed the inevitable, as threatening as they were.

"Why are you still talking to me, then?"

She was doing exactly what he had told her not to – pushing her luck. Fortunately, for them both, he took it in good part.

"I could stop talking, but you wouldn't like it very much, would you?"

So he noticed it, too, did he?

"We were talking about a better alternative. One that doesn't involve rape. But I am not going back to pining over you while you pretend I don't exist."

"I never pretended anything! I wasn't interested in you, and I honestly didn't want you to be so interested in me!"

She was close to the breaking point; his intense rage and the lust in his voice were making her head spin. She was fed up with him – a hazardous state of mind when you're dealing with a man out of his mind.

"So what do you want, Aaron? Do you want to add rape to your list of crimes? Is being a murderer not enough for you?"

He was taken aback by her choice of words and the tone of her voice, but he was not altogether displeased. Her frustration had won out over her fear, and he had to admit he liked her better that way.

As long as she was calling a spade a spade, he might as well mirror her.

"I'll tell you what I want. I want to take you to dinner and hold your hand across the table. I want to take you dancing. I want to kiss you and hold you when you sleep. Is that too much to ask?"

She thought she had misunderstood him.

"You want to date me? Aaron, you do realize that only a few months ago we were wanted dead by a government agency, probably more than one? And you want to take me out to dinner? That is your major concern while we're on the run from –"

He interrupted her.

"I already told you, we are safe now. They won't be coming after us again."

"Aaron, if you really are as stupid as to think they have stopped looking for us, I don't think I want to have dinner with you. I am beginning to think you are insane!"

He was silent for a moment.

"You're insulting me because you're afraid. Your anger is a bluff. Call me any names you want, but no matter how stupid you think I am, these are my terms. Live with me and let me love you. That is the price you have to pay in order to be safe. Safe from me. That is my final offer, accept it or face the consequences."

His voice was unexpectedly bitter, resentful. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Not the easiest thing to do while being strangled into submission.

"Let me see if I get this right. You promise not to… attack me, but I have to allow you to behave as… my boyfriend?"

He grinned at her choice of words, but not because he found them funny.

"Only I wouldn't be your boyfriend, would I? Try to run and I will find you. Try to fight me off, you won't be able to stand on your own two feet for a week. Got it?"

"Yes. So you're going to keep me prisoner, bully me into submission and wait till I miraculously fall in love with you?"

"Of course."

He was laughing quietly, in the same way a madman might laugh if he discovered he was the last sane person on the face of the Earth.

"Can I just say something here? I am obviously not saying no, because – Despite what you might think, I am taking you very seriously and I know my options are limited. But this is so not the kind of situation I've ever hoped to find myself in, so forgive me if I am a little put out with you."

_What an understatement._

He cocked his head to one side to better see her face, intrigued in spite of himself. She sneaked a glance at him out of the corner of her eye and regretted it immediately.

_He is so changed._

"Go ahead."

"Of all the possessive, controlling, manipulative, abusive men in the universe, I have to tie myself to the one who is a genetically enhanced –"

Her train of thought was cut short when she thought of the ramifications, if she were to accidentally give him the wrong idea. … _a genetically enhanced master assassin with extensive military training and supreme survival skills,_ that's what he was, but she wasn't going to say it out loud. He might think she was flattering him.

"– son of a bitch."

This time, his smile was genuine. Affectionate. Indulging.

"You made me that way, remember? Besides, it won't be that bad."

"How bad will it be, then? I mean, I would agree to being with you this way, but you have to let me –"

His hand tightened around her throat, cautioning her, and she hurried to elaborate.

"You said if I try to fight you off, I won't be able to stand for a week. What did you mean by that? You can't take no for an answer? Do I have to do everything you want, no matter how sick it is?"

"How sick do you think I am? Don't answer that. Things really aren't that complicated. You think I'm overbearing, intimidating – use any word you want – but I don't intend to make your life a living hell. It might turn out that way all the same, but if you don't enjoy something, you tell me. I'm not one of those guys who have to have their way every single time."

She wasn't sure she could agree with that, but she didn't say anything.

"I just want you to be mine. How and when, we'll figure that out along the way. Together."

She still didn't say anything.

"Marta?"

She jumped a little at his use of her name.

"Are we on the same page?"

She swallowed hard and nodded.

"Can we get out of here now? Possibly before I do something I will regret forever?"

She nodded again, too tired and too overwhelmed to argue any further.

He released her then, and took her hand, pulling her along but her feet wouldn't move fast enough. She stumbled, and he caught her before she fell.

He let her go as soon as she raised her head to read his face. He seemed composed, but she was shocked to find that his eyes, once warm and carefree, had turned as cold and hard as stone. But when he took her hand again, he did so gently, and his palm was warm against her skin. Too warm.

"Come on."

She followed him, trying not to think about how everything had changed during the course of a single conversation. She no longer belonged to herself, but she was not ready to give herself up.

She thought the two of them gave the phrase "walking a tightrope" a whole new meaning, and if she had dared ask, Aaron would have been in full agreement.

During their walk back to their place, he never released his hold on her hand, turning his head to look at her face once or twice. His expression was thoughtful, not as intent as she thought it would be, but severe all the same. Looking back at him, she found it hard to think of him as her enemy. But wasn't that exactly what he had become?

She never dreamed that any man was capable of giving her an ultimatum the way he had done. She honestly couldn't believe that such a man could exist. She couldn't bear to think of a future with this new, darker Aaron who had all of a sudden revealed himself to be a slave to his desires. Only, he didn't act like a slave. He was, despite his outbursts, very much in control, more so than she would have expected of anyone. The part she couldn't quite figure out was whether he was in control of himself or of her.

The entire situation was – besides horrifying – unbelievably frustrating. He was more confusing than any science problem she had ever encountered. But he was a man, not a puzzle to be solved – not a science experiment – and therefore highly unstable and infinitely more dangerous. His volatile temper could get the better of him, just like his yearning had, and then what? Confronting an enraged Aaron was not something she was looking forward to, knowing that pleading would get her nowhere. She could try reasoning with him, but would he even listen?

For the past hour, all of her fears had focused on sexual violence. Was he capable of doing more than that if she pushed the wrong button? Was getting killed what she should be worried about as well?


	7. Chapter 7

As it turned out, it was the little things – not important things like love or death –that caused the biggest arguments. She felt as if under siege, and while she told herself there was no immediate threat, Aaron's closeness kept making her hair stand on end.

For the first two days, they fought relentlessly about the sleeping arrangements.

Aaron insisted that she should sleep in his arms, while she adamantly refused to do so, and after locking her up in the bathroom for the night, Aaron left her alone, too furious to be in the same room with her even with the locked door as a buffer. She conceded defeat, feeling trapped and trampled, after he discovered she was more afraid of him joining her in the shower than of him violating her in her sleep, and threatened her.

None of them wanted that kind of event to repeat itself.

On the third day, she decided to take a shower while Aaron was out, running errands, drinking beer or whatever he did with his time when he wasn't bothering her. Of course he locked the door, but she locked the bathroom door just in case he returned while she was still showering.

She needn't have bothered.

She did not hear him come in, nor was she aware of his presence, until she turned the water off, wheeled around and found an amused-looking Aaron leaning against the bathroom wall. He had been watching her and he seemed to have enjoyed it quite a bit, judging by the look on his face.

He handed her a towel wordlessly and she used it to cover herself up as quickly as possible. Shame washed over her and she was unable to conceal it.

"Don't be self-conscious. You're the most beautiful woman alive."

He was not one for idle flattery – he meant it with every fiber of his being. But just right now, she was in no mood to accept compliments from a man who had just violated her right to privacy.

"Is there anything else you wanted, besides staring at my behind?" she asked, her tone acidic.

He glared at her, his eyes once again hard as stone.

"Not unless you want to give me a blowjob."

His answer came fast and hard, and she quailed at the menace his words entailed.

She waited in silence while he struggled to calm down. When his heavy breathing subsided, she proceeded to exit the shower, but was stopped short by a wall of Aaron who was suddenly but an inch away.

She would have squealed and moved away. She wanted to, but didn't. An instinct warned her not to run from him – it was rational and illogical at the same time.

"You would hide, and hurt, and make me wait for you. The answer is no."

He felt wounded, bleeding inwardly, invisibly. A woman with her wits about, a woman unafraid and undefeated might see the blood, the signs of torment and despair. A woman like that could wipe away the blood, chase away bad dreams and tame the animal inside the man.

Marta was not such a woman, and she knew it. But she also knew she should have become such a woman, and she thought she knew how to act like one.

Quickly, trying not to think about it, she stood on her toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. The second she began to pull back, his arms came up, coiling around her body, binding her to him.

Her first reaction was sheer and utter panic. Before she could start struggling, she remembered why she had kissed him, and was still.

"I'm so happy you're here it hurts to breath."

He had never spoken truer words. He had never been more powerful and more helpless.

This was what she wanted, and though she ached to be free of his embrace, she knew he wanted to hold her, needed it, and she held still.

What she did not know, was that he understood what she was doing, and why, and that made it a thousand time worse. He cherished the feel of her next to him even as he felt she should not have needed to submit in order to be safe. Her fearing him spoiled his moment of pleasure. His own personal happiness was incomplete without her contentment.

They had both lost their tempers, but when he thought about it, he realized she had more to lose than he did. It was wrong of him to make things more difficult for her than they already were.

"I'm sorry."

When they fell asleep, Marta noticed there were tears on his face – a face that all of a sudden seemed too young. Much too young for a man who had killed, who had had his DNA changed without his permission, and who had loved to the point of insanity. Finding his way back to humanity must have been getting harder and harder each time.

A woman whose heart was open and warm, would have fallen in love with him for the tears he shed, for the pain he endured. A smart woman would appreciate the fact that he felt wretched as hell about hurting her. Marta was not such a woman, and she did not know what to think of it all.


	8. Chapter 8

He took her to dinner about a week after the shower incident, just as he had promised, and they held hands across the table. She thought the evening was turning out to be pretty normal – as normal as it could ever be with Aaron as her date – until she got up to go to the rest room.

She had to pass by his side of the table, and he stopped her mid-stride, one of his hands wrapping gently, but decisively around her forearm.

She paused, looking down at him.

He was looking up at her, his face peaceful, with just a touch of sadness around the corners of his mouth. Sympathy washed through her and she held his arm the same way he was holding hers.

"Come back to me. Please."

"If I don't, you'll come and find me," she said with a ghost of a smile.

"You bet I will," he replied, serious and confident. It sounded like a vow. His eyes were hard as stone, and just as cold.

In an instant, he had transformed from the Aaron she could deal with to her fourth attacker.

A second passed and he let go of her.

She stumbled twice on her way to the rest room, which was temptingly close to the exit. Of course she had noticed it, and he had noticed she had noticed it. She knew he knew she had noticed it, and there was nothing she could do.

If she had not known her words had been nothing but the truth, she wouldn't have had the strength to return to their table but a few short minutes later.


	9. Chapter 9

He took her dancing that night as well.

After the dinner, they walked the streets of the sprawling city, looking for a small square with live music. While they were strolling down a narrow, desolate street, she thought of the crime rate statistics of this place. They probably weren't very good. But she felt no concern. The most dangerous man in town was by her side, holding her hand. A common criminal – any criminal – had nothing on Aaron Cross.

She stole a quick look at his face. He was staring straight ahead, scanning the surroundings but as her eyes scrutinized him, he looked at her and smiled.

With a jolt in her stomach, she quickly looked away.

They found what they were looking for eventually. He led her to the center of the improvised dance floor and slowly they eased into the music.

As they began to sway to the rhythm, their bodies pressed together quite deliberately. His hands were on her hips, holding her close, and his mouth was on hers, lips touching, but not quite breaking into a kiss. Her hands were on his chest, keeping him at a distance without much success.

They danced, and while he was still staring into her eyes, he began to kiss her. Slowly at first, just soft, tender kisses. That part did not last very long.

The kissing turned serious, desperate, and they stood close enough for her to feel his growing arousal. She tried squirming away but he wouldn't budge an inch. He simply continued to kiss her, not caring if she kissed him back, and she was ever so grateful they were in public.

He allowed her to step back after what seemed like an eternity. By that point, he had regained control over himself. The excitement had ebbed, leaving a hollow sting in its wake. His eyes were wild, not cold, but with a kind of hopeless emptiness behind the vulnerability.

She knew all too well how that void could fill in an instant with concentration, rage or desire.

She did not know how she could ever trust him.


	10. Chapter 10

Each night, as she climbed into bed, he would make room for her, creating a warm place for her next to his body. She was safe during the night whenever he did this. Sometimes she curled with her sheets tightly around her as far from him as possible, and then he reached across the bed to put his hands on her hips and pull her towards him. She never resisted, but she cried often, and the weight of his arm was the only solace she got.


	11. Chapter 11

There were better days, and then there were bad days.

He was standing in the middle of the small room, filling it with his rage. His eyes were hard, like so many times before, and he exuded lust, raw and unchecked.

He was all focus and power, and she was the bull's-eye.

After a minute, two minutes, five minutes, he turned around, walked to the door, slammed it with too much force, and left her alone to crumble to pieces. Hours later, she fell asleep on the bathroom floor.

In the morning, she woke up in their bed. He must have moved her sometime during the night.

He sat on a wobbly chair next to the bed, his arms rested on his knees, hands supporting his chin. Deep in thought he was, but as she stirred, he turned to look at her.

They stared at each other, still as statues and just as quiet.

"We can't go on like this. Sooner or later you will get hurt. I will hurt you."

She couldn't think of anything to say.

"I've changed my mind. You can go anywhere you want, I won't follow you. Go home, see your family. Find a nice man and settle down. Be happy."

He got up and turned towards her. She recoiled – an involuntary reaction – but it did not provoke him in any way. He merely bent down to press a light kiss upon her hair.

"Everything you need is on the table. Travel safely."

He left, not saying anything further, and was true to his word – expect for the fact that he came to see her off at the airport. He made sure she was safe and headed home, and that she did not see him.

She had given him more than enough to last him a lifetime.

What had he given her but grief?


	12. Chapter 12

Years later she would fall asleep crying every night.

Returning home had not been such a great idea. She was unsuccessful, lonely and riddled with regrets.

She felt she had not been brave enough or clever enough to hold on to Aaron, who might have become a good man, if she had given him the opportunity.

What she regretted the most was that she never slept with him, never learned what he would have been like as a lover. She had never let him know the joy of being with her.

It hurt her to be with him, but it hurt more having to live without him.

He was not perfect, to be sure. Nevertheless, he was a gift, a gift of life and love, but she pushed him away, and never received another gift like that again. She never truly loved Aaron, but she never loved anyone else either.


	13. Chapter 13

Years later, he still dreamt of her.

Letting her go was the only wholly good thing he had ever done, and he regretted it with every fiber in his being.

It had been stupid to imagine that she – or the absence of her – could be his absolution.

There was no rest for the wicked.


	14. Chapter 14

**Alternative ending. If things had gone differently, this is how it would end.**

They were lying in bed, not exactly making love, but not trying to sleep, either.

All of a sudden, while he was kissing her left breast, she caught him by surprise and said, "I love you."

Raising his head, he looked her in the eye, and she felt an uncomfortable jolt in her stomach. He wasn't going to reciprocate.

He ducked his head to resume his endearments, gradually kissing and licking his way up her body, across her shoulder and alongside her neck, until he nibbled at her ear lobe.

"I love you, too."

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her heart throbbed. She gazed at him in wonder and felt the guilt spread over her face.

His answering smile was patient, and a little smug.

"You didn't think I'd say it, did you?"

She shook her head, "No."

His smile widened. He was pleased with himself in spite of the awkwardness of the situation, and she returned the smile tentatively.

They kissed with something that was neither passion nor need, and for a small moment, nothing existed under the sun, expect a man and a woman, who loved each other.

A little while later, another question was brought up.

"Why do you love me?" he asked, and she was frightened a little by how serious he seemed, and genuinely curious. This was no trivial quarry that could be dismissed with a joke, or forgotten due to sexual gratification.

However, she had no idea what to say to him. Asking why someone loved someone else just seemed… wrong.

Reading her expression, he understood the dilemma she was struggling with, and rephrased his question.

"What is it you love about me?"

She smiled to herself, relief making her light-hearted and brave. This was the right question, and the answer was easy, but she had to say it just right.

Wrapping herself tighter around his body, she said, "You are the best man I have ever met."

He just looked back at her, dubious, waiting for the rest of it. She expected nothing less of him.

"You are… exciting, gentle, strong. You are smart, but it's not about the increase of your intelligence, it's how you use it. You have your own way of interpreting things. You're a great lover."

He was still waiting, not precisely skeptical, but rather… timid.

"And I love that inner being inside of you. It's… amazing. You strive to be better than you are, to do better things, different things. Every day, you try to be better than you were yesterday. I see it, Aaron, and seeing how good you are and how you think you can be so much better, how can I help loving you?"

"I wasn't always like that."

"You weren't always the man I love. But you are now."

Slowly, slowly, his head dropped, not as if he were trying to hide his expression, but as if a great fatigue settled over him. His body trembled in a way that suggested he was weary from some struggle that had just ended. As if he had just reached his most desired destination quite unexpectedly, and the joy and the surprise took his strength away.

Tenderly, not wanting to seem condescending, she kissed his forehead. The brush of her lips against his skin was light, but she knew it would regenerate him.

Sure enough, he recovered from his moment of weakness, and pressed his lips to the skin between her breasts just as lovingly.

"Why do you love me?" she asked. It was her turn.

He looked up and answered without hesitation.

"You made me who I am… and I will always be grateful for that. You helped create me, but you also gave me my freedom. You were the one person I could rely on – in fact, you're the only one I've ever been able to trust. And you trust me. I never thought anyone ever would, because of what I am. But you… you're so brave. I killed no small number of people in front of you, and you still smile at me like all you remember about me are the good things. I will never be able to love you enough, be kind enough to you to repay all of that."

And just like that, he wasn't the only one who had arrived at the end of a long, tiresome journey, that lonely road called life – life without love.


End file.
